The View From Saturday
by Etherealspring
Summary: Edited, not updated, yet. Blaise Zabini deals with an intrusion on his peaceful Saturday view, namely: one Ginny Weasley.  A light romance. Rated M for language and smutt, eventually.  You've been warned.


_A/N: I hate disclaimers, but to give credit where credit is due, I must admit that I borrowed the title (without permission) from a lovely little book by Jean Ferris, which I highly recommend for a bit of light reading.__ Enjoy_

Saturday mornings at Hogwarts were quiet. Silence reigned in the empty hallways and classrooms, disrupted only by the snoring of young witches and wizards recuperating from the previous evening's activities, which, for the older years, included copious quantities of hard liquor.

Blaise Zabini, Slytherin seventh year and head boy, awoke to this silence, stretching his long tan limbs and reaching for his wand to open the curtains behind him. Sunlight spilled out over his bed, and warmed his back.

Rising, he walked to the window, appreciating the view his position afforded him.

It seemed that the whole of Hogwarts grounds lay out before him: distant mountains, the fog slowly dispersing over the trees of the Forbidden Forest in the middle ground, and the lake, seemingly directly below, placid in the foreground. Blaise liked rising earlier than everyone else to bask in the illusion of solitude, and get in a little work.

Suddenly, he frowned. Something wasn't right. Something was intruding on his view.

A lone figure sat under a tree near the lake, skipping rocks.

Unreasonably upset by the intrusion, Blaise stalked from his room, throwing on a robe. He went in search of coffee, and the other early riser.

------------------------

Ginny Weasley leaned her head back against the trunk of the willow tree, soaking in the sun rays slipping through the branches above her. She closed her eyes and drank in all the sensations: the chilly morning breeze, the sound of waves softly lapping at the bank of the lake, the smell of warm coffee in the mug beside her.

"Weasley."

Whipping around, Ginny winced at the pain in her neck and tried to focus on the approaching figure.

"Zabini."

--------------------

Having been slightly appeased by the smell and taste of the coffee, Blaise considered just returning to his dorm with breakfast in hand. But no, he needed to know who it was.

He slipped through the entrance doors and walked towards the lake, his pace quickening as the caffeine worked in his system. The mist was rising off the lake in soft tendrils as the sun washed over it. Blaise was certain the view was amazing from his window right now. And for some reason, he resented the mysterious figure for disturbing his routine and making him miss the view.

Padding softly, he neared the willow tree where his quarry rested. No robes. Muggle clothing. Bare feet. Black pants. Blue shirt. Red hair.

At first he thought it was a boy. The pants were baggy, the shirt loose. Then the figure leaned back, revealing feminine curves. Scarlet locks tumbled down around her face, highlights glinting like molten gold in the morning sun. She tipped her face to greet its rays, closing her eyes. Blaise stared at her full lips, slightly parted. Freckles dusted her nose.

Weasley.

She whirled around, breaking up the scene. Blaise hadn't realized that he said it aloud.

She regarded his coolly, azure eyes locked on his dark ones.

"Zabini."

Then she turned around again to regard the lake.

Blaise just stood there, open mouthed. How dare she ignore him like that! Her, the disturber of his peace, the intruder on his view, she just turned around and ignored him!

"Weasley," he said again, this time with annoyance clear in his voice.

"Mmmmmm yes, Zabini?" she muttered absently, picking up her coffee mug in one hand to take a sip, eyes still on the lake.

Blaise faltered. A minute ago he knew exactly what he wanted to say, precisely how to get her out of his view. Now he stood there like a rejected suitor, unworthy, bumbling.

"Weasley," he tried again.

Finally she turned back to him, eyebrow raised in sarcastic amusement. "Yes, I think we established that is my name." Blaise was at a complete loss for words. "Can I help you?"

Shaking himself mentally, Blaise began to lodge his complaint.

"Weasley, you're in the way." Great, a sentence.

Both red eyebrows now raised in unison. "I'm sorry, in the way of what, exactly?"

"Ummmm...you're in my view." Blaise realized a little too late how stupid that sounded.

In a degradingly condescending voice, she said, "Well, it's kind of hard not to be in view when you come up right behind me."

Frustrated to the point of anger now, Blaise expounded. "No no no, you're in my view from my room."

She continued to regard him with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "Point being..."

"Point is you're intruding. On my view. And it's annoying." Blaise found himself quickly wilting under that gaze. "And I'd appreciate it if you would move."

Anger flashed across her blue eyes. "You mean to tell me that because you can see me from your window this morning, I have somehow infringed on your rights and you want ME to move?"

"Well, yes. I like looking out my window on Saturday mornings before everyone gets up and seeing it so peaceful and quiet and dra-..." Blaise trailed off, realizing he had given up too much, and lifted his chin. "Point is, you're ruining the scenery."

The red head was suddenly on her feet, quiet obviously pissed off.

"How dare you, Zabini. How dare you come down here with your Slytherin superiority, intrude on MY peaceful, quiet morning by the lake, and demand that I grovel before your wishes! I will not withstand such disrespect from a low, lying, conniving, arrogant, slimy, supremist bastard like you!"

"Now look here! I look out my window every morning and see idiot students running around. And on the one morning I am almost guaranteed solitude to work with, you come barging in on it!"

"Now I'm an idiot, am I? You are the lowest son of a bitch to ever walk the planet after that asshole Malfoy! Why don't you go find his lying ass and kiss it, since you're probably still the best of friends?" Screaming in frustration, she threw her coffee mug at him and stormed past him back to the castle. With lightning reflexes, Blaise caught the mug, but not before its spin had splattered the entire contents on his robe.

"Well, shit."

------------------------------

Precisely one week after the confrontation by the lake, Blaise once again awoke to the Saturday morning silence of post-party recovery. Flicking his wand in the general direction of the curtains, he stretched, running his long fingers through chin-length wavy dark brown hair. Reaching for a robe, he turned to take in his view. Then frowned.

There _she_ was. _Again_. In _his_ view. He could tell it was her. No one else in their right mind rose this early on a Saturday, and no one had that particular shade of red hair.

_Not again_. Blaise groaned. He would have to try to talk to her again, he groused, but not until he had fortified himself with a ready wand and a fresh cup of coffee.

------------------

This time Ginny was waiting for him. Last weekend she had just come out in a flight of whimsy. After the altercation with the head boy, she decided to get in "his view" again. Now she was just being belligerent.

Still, she did enjoy watching, waiting for the first red rays to peek out over the mountains in the distance, slipping between the summits to turn the lake a brilliant molten gold. As Zabini had not seen fit to return her favorite blue mug, she held a green one loosely in her grip.

She heard him come up behind her again, and smirked slightly. She was ready for him.

"Weasley."

She didn't even look around.

"Morning, Zabini. Can I help you?"

Silence. She didn't need eyes in the back of her head to know he was disconcerted already.

-----------------

Blaise was at a loss for words again. And he hated it. And he hated _her_.

Oh, he knew she was playing with him. And he simply would _not_ stand for it.

"Yeah, you could move your fat arse out of the way. Then maybe the rest of us would be able to actually see the lake." There. That would get under that pleasant facade.

"Actually," she responded lightly, "the only thing ruining the view is your over-inflated ego."

Oh, he was mad now. But he was no idiot Gryffindor to go for his wand with her probably sitting safely under a shield charm. He was a Slytherin.

"I think you're confusing me with your lover-boy Potter. Didn't even come back this year, takes so well to his 'hero' role. Probably out bed-hopping while you're sitting her pining for him by the lake, _alone_."

_That _struck a nerve.

Ginny leapt from her seat beneath the willow, and suddenly her wand was in her hand. But her hair was caught on a branch.

"Fuck you Zabi- OWWW!"

He couldn't help it. He laughed.

Cursing, Ginny tried to fire a jinx at him, but it went off kilter when a twig poked into her scalp.

"Zabini, don't just stand there, you asshole, help me out of this!" she screeched at him.

"Now, now, Weasley," he tsk-ed at her, "that's no polite way to get assistance. Didn't your mother teach you any manners? Or was it all used up on the first twelve whelps she popped out?"

And he walked away, leaving her still screaming obscenities from the willow by the lake at his retreating back.

------------------

As soon as she had calmed down, Ginny was able to disentangle her hair quite easily from the tree branches. But she was still in a foul mood when she met up with her friends for lunch.

Three Gryffindor sixth year girls nodded in acknowledgement when she dropped onto the bench across from them.

A tall, dark, curvy girl moaned, holding her head, "NOT SO LOUD! Merlin, Ginny, how can you be so lively so damned early in the morning?"

Ginny laughed. "Amara, may I point out to you that you're sitting at lunch? It's half past noon."

A blonde girl looked down at her plate, "So that's why I'm having a chicken salad instead of cereal." She nudged the girl next to her, whose head was in danger of falling into her own plate of pasta, "Oi! Edrea! I don't think pesto sauce makes a good exfoliant."

The third girl lifted her head abruptly, then winced and held it in her hands. "I'm never drinking tha' much ever again." She ran a hand through her spiky brown hair, with bleached ends. "I wouldn't've 'cept Cleo wouldn't drink any more than I did, and I wanted to seduce her so damn much."

"Yeah?" Ginny looked up, interest piqued, "How'd that go?"

The blonde snorted into her pumpkin juice. "I doubt she'll remember Edrea hurling all over her, as she passed out shortly afterwards."

Amara raised an eyebrow critically, "As I recall, Darby, you weren't in much better shape fifteen minutes later. Do you remember anything after disappearing upstairs with that Ravenclaw bloke, what's his name? Irving? Igor?"

"Ian, I think," Ginny offered.

Darby raised her eyebrows, "Is that who was in my bed this morning?" She shrugged unconcernedly, "He was alright, I think." She frowned, thinking. "I think I might have fallen asleep in the middle of it, though."

"I guess he wasn't all that good, then," Amara smirked.

Darby looked at her smugly. "At least I can get some ass whenever I want it. Who was the last guy you slept with?"

Amara looked off in the distance, suddenly nostalgic. "Oh wow. Now that was a good lay. Hot hands, hotter mouth. No one can even come close. I guess since I hooked up with Zabini, I've just given up hope of ever being satisfied again..."

Ginny's head jerked up sharply from her sandwich. "You slept with Zabini? When?"

Amara was still staring off into nothing. "Oh, end of last year. I was loosening up after OWLs, y'know, blowing off steam." She grinned. "He was more than glad to help."

Ginny stared, open-mouthed at her friend, until Edrea spoke from her end. "You know if he's single? Seeing as how I botched up seducing Cleo, and all, maybe I should move on into greener pastures..."

Amara smirked knowingly, "Nothing green about Blaise Zabini." She turned to Ginny and noticed her staring, unusually flush. "You okay, Gin? You look a little peaky."

"You slept with Zabini?"

Amara nodded patiently, "Yes, I think we've established that."

"Why?" Ginny jerked out.

It was Darby who answered, "Why not? Who wouldn't want Zabini? I've heard so many rumors about his talented fingers...not that the rest of him is bad either..."

Ginny gaped at her friends, "You think Zabini's hot?"

Amara looked at her like she was crazy. "He is hot. There's no thinking involved. An icy facade, but a fire in bed. Must be the Italian blood..."

"B-b-but," Ginny stuttered, "he's such a bastard! So arrogant! He's a total asshole!"

Darby smiled dreamily, "But what a gorgeous asshole."

Ginny cringed. Edrea looked up at her. "Honestly, Gin, just because you're saving yourself for Potter doesn't mean you can't look."

Ginny was indignant. "I look! I check out guys all the time. But one simply does not check out an arrogant prick of a Slytherin like Blaise Zabini."

"Really? Why don't you try it some time?" This from Darby.

"You can't be serious." All three girls nodded. "Fine," she huffed, "the next time Zabini comes around to tell me to kindly get the fuck out of 'his view', I'll check out his arrogant arse as he runs screaming from my bat bogey hex."

"He did WHAT?" Amara shrieked.

Ginny told them what had happened that morning and the previous Saturday.

The three girls across from her exchanged eye signals, Ginny looking on confusedly, until Edrea spoke. "What's got him so hopped up on his view?"

Ginny sighed exasperatedly, "Well, if I knew that, I would be able to understand Zabini, and if that happened, I would need to check myself into the psych-ward at St. Mungo's for my health."

Darby's eyes suddenly lit up. "I've got an idea..."

----------------------

A week later, Zabini again woke early on Saturday morning. Today the fog was thicker, and the sun took longer to break through. But when it did...there she was.

Zabini growled. This was the final straw. He was going to remove her bodily from his view if that's what it took. He took a minute to throw on proper clothes, girding himself for the battle to come and stormed from his dorm.

As he disappeared around a corner, three pairs of slippered feet ran to the dorm entrance, an ordinary door. One girl with spiky hair shot out a hand to catch it before it shut properly, then the three figures slipped into the room.

---------------

Zabini came up behind her as quietly as possible. What was it she did while she waited for him, knowing she was ruining his view? He saw her shiver in the lingering mist, her hair damp and clinging to her cheeks and smooth forehead. This time she was clad only in cargo khakis and a thin pale green tank top that hugged her wet skin. She was standing, the ground still very wet from last night's rain. Suddenly, his eyes were drawn to her feet. Her bare feet.

Rich purple varnish decorated her toenails, winking at him between blades of grass as she shifted. She reached up to brush wet strands from her eyes, and her tank top slid upwards slightly, flashing a sliver of smooth, pale skin over her low slung khakis.

She looked delicious.

Blaise shook himself, disturbed. This was Weasley, come on. Never mind that she would look positively ravishing in a green velvet gown, wandering barefoot on a deserted moor, with ivy woven through her scarlet locks...

She turned suddenly, catching him in his daydream. She raised her eyebrows in challenge, piercing his dark eyes with her sapphire blues. When she folded her arms across her chest, Blaise saw that her fingernails bore the same bewitching violet varnish. Her folded arms framed her breasts, to which her wet top clung slightly. Following the line of her collarbones, Blaise noticed a black ribbon tied around her throat, from which hung a silver ankh.

Ginny noticed his staring, and used his distraction as a chance to examine him more thoroughly.

Blaise wore dark blue, baggy carpenter jeans over black boots, secured on his slender hips with a black leather belt. A charcoal sweater did nothing to hide his wide shoulders. Ginny noticed a glint of silver on his left hand, but could not see it clearly. Dark eyes were set over and aquiline nose and full, but masculine lips. His hair was still slightly mussed from sleep, but was quickly going limp in the damp air, framing his strong jaw.

He spoke, and it took her a moment to register what he had said.

"Like what you see?"

Ginny would have flushed had she not been freezing. Coming out without a jacket had been a bad idea, but Darby insisted she wear a tank top. "Flaunt that hourglass figure while we ransack his room." That was the gist of her plan, and Ginny hoped they finished before her curves all froze off.

"I'm still wondering why Amara slept with you," Ginny said, diverting the question slightly.

He smirked, "Told you about that did she? I suppose I can answer that question." Raising his arms a bit, he circled once, coming back around to meet Ginny's gaze once again. "Who wouldn't want a piece of this?"

Ginny snickered, "You sound like a cow offering itself up for dinner. Fortunately, I'm a vegetarian."

"You'd be amazed how often people convert, though."

"Not for the likes of you. I don't eat bullshit, either."

"Though apparently you don't mind staring at it."

"Just wanted to know where you packed your wand, because it's obvious where you keep your brains."

"I'm forced to conclude that yours is stuffed somewhere in those oversized pants, as you hardly have enough cleavage to stick it there. Not in that top, anyway."

"I'm guessing you're packing next to your dick, as it couldn't possibly be making that bulge by itself."

"Oh, no, babe, that's all me. Just ask Amara."

"No thanks. I about lost my lunch when she told me she let you touch her."

"Sick with jealousy, no doubt."

"I'd do Amara before I'd do you, and I'm terribly homophobic."

"Y'know, most people fear in others what they hate in themselves."

"Of course, with that hair, I'm beginning to wonder if Amara might swing that way."

"Fingers itching to run through it?"

"Itching to get around your throat, more like."

"To kiss me or kill me?"

"Most definitely the latter."

"I'd have you pinned in half a second. Unless, of course, you like to top. I'm easy."

"That much, Zabini, is obvious. You'd have to be to sleep with Parkinson. Heard she came crawling back to you after Malfoy ran off with his tail between his legs."

"Naw, wouldn't want to catch something from her. You do know she did your brother once, right?"

"What?" Ginny almost screamed. Until now she had been perfectly calm. But that was waaaay below the belt. "You lying scum. Ron's been shagging Hermione since Dumbledore's funeral."

"I guess I'm not the only one who's easy then."

Screaming, Ginny forgot entirely about her wand and hurled herself at Blaise. Caught by surprise, he landed on his back with her on top of him, trying to grab her wrists as she swung at him.

"So you do like to top, then, Weasley?"

He felt her shift, and then fireworks exploded behind his eyeballs as she brought her knee down on his groin.

Rising, Ginny brushed herself off and spat, "Only when my partner's not man enough to do the job properly."

Twirling on her painted toes, she turned back to the castle and sauntered away. Blaise watched her go, her ass ridiculously attractive in those cargo pants, and hoping to Merlin she hadn't done any permanent damage.

----------------------

Ginny did not return immediately to her common room, where she knew her friends were waiting to report, but instead detoured to the prefect's bath, soaking the chill away for a good fifteen minutes.

When she finally found her friends by the common room fire, they looked ready to burst.

"Oh my god, Darby went through his underwear drawer-"

"I wanted to know if he actually had any, because I heard he goes commando-"

"Found his cologne stash. Forty galleons a bottle!"

"Naturally, he had a box of condoms in his bedside table-"

"- ran my hands all over his beautiful silk boxers. Mostly silver and green, of course-"

"And what on earth took you so long?"

The trio finally stilled, looking at Ginny expectantly. She rolled her eyes.

"We sized each other up-"

"Translation:" Edrea cut in, "you checked each other out."

"- had a battle of wits, lost patience with it, and decided to hell with it, just keep the idiot from walking for a while if the girls still need time."

"Oh no, you didn't hurt him, did you?" Darby looked concerned.

"Oh, no, nothing permanent, anyway. Assuming it hasn't impaired his ability to have children, of course-"

"You kicked him in the balls?!"

"Well, kneed him, actually. But sterilizing him would really be doing a favor to society, wouldn't it?"

"How could you use force on such manly perfection?" Amara demanded.

"Puh-leaze," Ginny groaned, "he's got nothing any other guy hasn't got."

"No, his is just better than any other guy's."

"That, my dears," Ginny said lightly, "is a matter of opinion. Now, did you find out why he's so upset by my presence by the lake?"

"Not really," Edrea sighed, "it was just a typical male bedroom. Only," Ginny perked up, "there was one drawer we couldn't open."

Darby was nodding, "We tried _alohamora_ and Edrea offered to pick the lock-"

"-only there wasn't a lock to pick," Amara finished, "The drawer was just completely sealed. Probably password protected."

Edrea added, "We'd have to take an axe to the thing to get it open, but we thought he might be a bit upset to find his dresser reduced to kindling."

Ginny nodded sagely. "Probably a wise decision."

----------------------

The next few weeks passed in much the same way. Zabini arose every Saturday to find the red haired girl in his view and would go down to the lake to bait her. Every morning ended with one of the two storming off, usually firing a hex as they went, though there were no more physical altercations.

One Saturday morning Blaise awoke with a grin already on his face, thinking of the confrontation that was sure to come. Realizing this, he scowled. The chick had been slowing his work for almost two months, and now he was enjoying it.

He began rummaging in his wardrobe to dress, throwing various articles of clothing on the bed, unsatisfied, then stopped and looked in the mirror. When did he start caring how he dressed for his weekly battle with the Weasley bird? The first couple weeks he went down in a dressing robe, now he was carefully selecting a full ensemble.

Frustrated, he closed his drawer with a shove, then grabbed a random sweater and jeans from the bed.

Approaching the lake, coffee in hand, Blaise was careful to tread softly. He liked sneaking up on her, trying to catch her off guard. He often did, though she shouldn't have been surprised at his coming. She was easily captured in the view of the sun rising over the lake. Too easily distracted. It was weak of her. And Blaise, being the Slytherin he was, was obligated to take advantage of this weakness at every opportunity.

She was alert at the moment, her head flicking slightly to the left and right, though never turning fully around, didn't want to let him see her looking for him. He chuckled softly, so she couldn't hear. About ten yards behind her was a sizable rock. He sat on it, sipping his coffee, to await her eventual absorption into the scenery.

Her top today was a deep blue, and he knew it would make her eyes shine like sapphire stars; especially once he got her good and pissed. All that long flaming hair was piled and pinned on top of her head with a careless elegance, revealing the smooth curve of her neck and small pale ears. He wished he could see her face, to see her expression as she looked out over the lake. It was probably serene, her eyebrows relaxed and lips parted slightly...

Blaise shook himself. He needed to stop thinking about her like this. He caught himself doing it more and more often, and for longer lengths of time. Yeah sure she had a decent body, young and lithe. But it was just his artistic eye betraying him. He appreciated a good view. Sometimes he really wanted to dr-

"Oh, you're here. Thought I smelled something rotten wafting by." She was alert to his presence, finally. His eyes narrowed.

"Must remind you of the hovel you call home. Tell me, do you and your twelve troll brothers sleep in one big pile? Or, as the only girl, do they shove you out with the pigs?"

"At least I don't screw pigs. If half the rumors I hear about you and Malfoy are true, you're way into bestiality."

"No, that was just Malfoy, though the hippogriff incident did put him off for a while."

She stared at him curiously for a moment, then burst out laughing. Clutching the tree for support, she doubled over. Blaise began chuckling himself, while studying her. Strands of her hair were coming unpinned and falling down to frame her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes squinting with humor. He thought her laughter sounded like bells chiming, a high, tinkling, but not unpleasant sound.

When she finally regained control of herself, wiping her eyes, she straightened up to look at him, head cocked to the side.

"I sort of expected more loyalty to the Slytherin king from you, Zabini."

Blaise shrugged. "Malfoy's burned all his bridges. I figure he's fairly safe to ridicule. Though not half as fun as your stupid ass of a brother."

"Ron can be a blundering git, when the mood strikes him. Evidence his relationship with Lavender."

"You know Brown was doing half of Slytherin at the same time?"

"Yourself included, I presume."

"Why settle for sloppy seconds? I single handedly deflowered at least ten girls from your year alone. Though I'm not sure on a couple, as we were both blind drunk at the time."

"That why you don't drink anymore?"

Blaise raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "How do you know that?"

If he expected her to blush and stutter, he was sorely mistaken. She replied coolly, "If you drank, you wouldn't be up at seven every Saturday. You'd be in your room, snoring like the cow you are, only to rise at noon in time to projectile vomit fantastically all over your bathroom, no doubt clashing with the green tile."

Blaise nodded at her logic, then stopped to glare at her. "How do you know what my bathroom looks like?"

Her eyes widened in surprise and fright, giving her a distinctive deer-in-headlights look. "I...unh...I just assumed...er..."

Still glaring, Blaise stalked toward her, advancing menacingly. "When were you in my bathroom, Weasley?"

"I w-w-wasn't-"

"Don't lie," he growled, only a few feet away now. "How did you get into my dorm?"

"I didn't, I swear."

"Liar." She was in arm's reach now, backed against the trunk of her tree.

"No, really, I wasn't." She said it with more conviction, but Blaise noticed an unconscious stress on the "I".

"Who? Who did you send to spy on me?" His eyes were slits. "Who, dammit?" He punctuated his words by slamming his hands against the tree on either side of her red hair. She jumped, increasingly afraid. Her breaths were coming in jagged gasps, her chest heaving in her short-sleeved stop.

Suddenly, the fire in his eyes changed from hot rage to a cool manipulative cunning, laced with lust and edged with taboo promises.

Leaning towards her, he brushed her cheek with his own stubbled jaw and whispered in her ear. "You will tell me, Red. One way or another, you will tell me who."

Ginny's eyes closed and she shivered involuntarily and the feeling of his cool breath on her hot skin.

Blaise looked down to where their hips were scant inches apart. Her top was riding up to expose the waistband of her black cargo pants and a slice of pale, smooth skin. He could feel a stirring in his own dark jeans. He needed to leave. Now.

He reached up and trailed a long tan finger along the sleek curve of her jaw, pleased to see that it felt as soft as it looked. Now if only he could taste it...

His mind was screaming "Retreat!!!" but his body was crying "Charge!!!"

Then she opened her eyes, thick lashes flickering to reveal her eyes. She stared up at him, and they deepened from blue diamonds to dark sapphires. He snapped.

Pinning her against the tree, Blaise swooped down on her slightly parted lips. She opened immediately to him, and he began to explore and plunder her mouth. One hand tangled in her quickly unraveling hair, while the other slid down her arm to the exposed skin of her waist. It was softer than silk, and he wanted more. Part of his mind vaguely registered her fingers running over his scalp through his mahogany hair and a hand clutching the collar of his sweater.

Forgetting himself entirely, he pressed against her, wanting to feel her breasts against him, trying to slip a leg between hers. She pulled back and gasped. He silently cursed. Of course, she had noticed _that_.

He could see the slap coming, could have caught her wrist. But he welcomed it. He wanted to wake from this nightmare.

"You bastard. You fucking asshole." Shoving him away, she bent to retrieve her shoes.

He hadn't noticed she was barefoot again. As she stalked away, the varnish on her toes flashed tauntingly at him. Blue. To match her eyes.


End file.
